


I don't have a choice, but I'd still choose you

by Fionakevin073



Series: The Story of Us [1]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 21:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10999647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fionakevin073/pseuds/Fionakevin073
Summary: AU Where things go slightly different when Tara comes back to town.





	I don't have a choice, but I'd still choose you

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I just recently joined Archive of Our Own and decided to upload my stories from fan fiction.net onto this website as well. Thank you all for your support and please feel free to review! This is my first story posted on this site so little nervous! Thanks. :)

_I don’t have a choice, but I’d still choose you._

_—Poison and Wine, the Civil Wars._

 

She doesn’t know how it happens. 

Better yet, she doesn’t know _how_ she let this happen. 

Tara left Charming because she hated it with every fibre of her being, and now she was returning like a dog with her tail between her legs. The thought makes her feel sick— but not as sick as the thought of Joshua finding her. She can still hear the sound of his voice echoing in the silence, can still feel the tight grip he always held her with when she wakes up in the morning. Tara resists the urge to flinch at the feeling, and so with a lump in her throat and a restraining order protecting her she returns to Charming. 

To home.

To the only place she ever felt safe. 

( _Yeah right,_ her conscious whispers. Tara ignores how her heart beats just a little bit faster and grips the steering wheel tighter.)

* * *

 

It’s not like she was never tempted to come back. On the contrary, when she first left Charming, heartbroken and defeated she had dreamt of returning, had longed for the feeling of his arms around her once more and the reassurance that _he_ would never let her go. She never did return though, because she knew that if she did, it would be for him. And she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t live in the cage that was Charming, not even for him— not even for Jax. 

And so she stayed away. She moved in with her Aunt Lisa and went to UC San Diego. And she loved it. She loved the people she met, the friends she made, the teachers and the classes. She loved how _big_ San Diego was— how she never felt as though she were being suffocated. She loved the endless list of new people she would meet, and relished in how different it was from Charming. But there were times in the beginning where she felt as though San Diego was _too_ much for her. Was too big and open and endless and she feared that she would simply slip through the cracks and disappear, and that no one would even notice. 

That’s the one thing she could give Charming credit for, everyone always noticed when someone disappeared— or when someone came back. 

Tara pulls into her childhood homes driveway on a Tuesday in the middle of the July. She jumps out of the second hand car she bought in Chicago, and can feel her feet begin to sway on the ground beneath her. Her father had been dead for a year and though they had never been close— they talked approximately once every six months when she left— she is suddenly hit with a small pang of grief. 

Nothing had changed about the house. The lawn was still unkept and uneven, the house still had the same chipped paint it always had, and the same god-damn keep away look it had since her mother died when she was nine. Tara let out a small amused sound, jingling her car keys in her hand. Her stomach tightens once the amusement fades, and she lets out a tired, shaky breath. 

_What the hell are you doing here Tara?_ she thought, wiping a hand over her face before shoving her car keys in the front pocket of her jeans. _Surviving,_ her conscious whispered back. Tara resisted the urge to scowl before casting one last solemn look at the house. She already missed the small apartment she bought when she began med school. Tara missed the buzz that never faded at night, showing how Chicago was thriving with life. But then she remembered how the smiles and the laughs that she associated with the apartment had been taken over by slaps and cries and too strong grips and a pregnancy test and a bruised cheek. She reached for her throat, trying to keep the memories at bay. _This is your home now._

She moved to the back of the car, opened the door and took out the first of surprisingly-not-too-many-boxes she brought over when she left. 

_Time to get to work, Knowles._

* * *

 

It takes— what she is sure is a record— of a little over 5 hours of her unpacking her belongings and cleaning up some of her father’s shit when the first knock on the door echoes through her house. She froze at the sound of the knock, her heart hammering in her chest. _Could it be Joshua?_ she thought, her hands tightening into fists. The knocking continues, and with a shaky, hesitant breath she moved towards the door, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear from where it escaped her messy ponytail. 

 

“Hello,” she breathes out, a shaky smile fluttering across her face as she takes in the older woman standing in front of her. 

 

“Tara!” the woman exclaimed, her brown eyes widening with a strange thrill as she realised the meaning of Tara’s return—the gossip it would bring. “I didn’t know you were coming back,” she continued, her eyes scanning over Tara as though she were appraising her. 

 

“Uh, thank you Mrs Roberts,” Tara replied, holding onto the door handle tightly as she forced a smile on her face. Mrs Roberts had been her neighbour since she was born, Tara had never liked the gossip loving older woman, and resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the older woman’s expression. 

 

“How long has it been?” Mrs Roberts asked, her eyes having a glint of emotion that caused Tara’s stomach to churn, “Ten, eleven years?”

 

“Somewhere around there,” Tara replied evenly, and it was then that she noticed the small cake in Mrs Roberts hands. “Oh!” Mrs Roberts exclaimed, once she had seen Tara’s eyes flicker down to the small cake, “Silly me in my old age! I brought this over once I realised that it was you to welcome you back to Charming!”

 

Tara let out a small laugh of gratitude and let the older woman slip it into her hands, and murmured, “Thank you, Mrs Roberts. You shouldn’t have—“

 

“Nonsense,” Mrs Roberts interrupted, waving a hand to dismiss her claims, “I must ask dear Tara, _why_ did you return?” 

 

Tara bit on her tongue as she thought _none of your fucking business, you nosy—_

 

“St. Thomas hospital,” she blurted out instead, balancing the cake in her hand, “I got offered a good job as a surgeon.” 

 

“Wow,” Mrs Roberts echoed, though her eyes had significantly cooled, as though what Tara had said was something horrible, “Good for you.”

 

It took another few minutes of awkward small talk before the lady left, and when she did Tara closed the door with a relieved huff, glad to be rid of her. She leaned back against the door, tightening her grip on the cake in her hands. She glanced down at it and let out a laugh as she realised what it was. Chocolate cake. Her favourite. 

 

The people in Charming never did forget anything did they?

* * *

 

It takes a few more days before the news of her being back in town fully spreads, and by the end of the fifth day her kitchen is overflowing with cakes and casseroles and pies, as though people thought she came back with ten children and not ten boxes. 

Tara had barely left the house, the only time she had was to get some groceries and she flinched at the memory of how others had openly gawked at her, not even bothering to hide their shock and curiosity at her being back. 

It was as though she were some kind of plague, the way they were treating her. Some of them eyed her warily— mainly the girls— as though she were about to lash out at them and punch them in the face. The thought made her lips twitch at the memory of her love-crazed sixteen year old self, who jumped any girl who touched her boyfriend for a moment too long. 

She isn’t that girl anymore, even if she still has that tattoo she got when she was seventeen. 

(she ignores the fact that her heart hammers in her chest anytime she hears the roar of a motorbike or a whisper of SAMCRO. It makes her angry, really, at herself. She can’t live that life, she never could, and that hasn’t changed)

She starts at St.Thomas about a week from the day she finally finishes unpacking, and in that time she sells the car she brought from Chicago in favour of her father’s cutlass and she lingers about the house, growing restless with each passing day. 

 

It’s not as though she doesn’t do anything. She cleans and cooks and reads and once every couple of hours, her friends from Chicago will call (on the new number she got after leaving for them to contact her) and she hangs up pictures of the years she spent there—with them. Her eyes linger on the pictures she hangs up; the one with her and Aunt Lisa smiling over cups of ice cream, the one with her and three of her girlfriends at a concert with paint streaked across their faces along with wide smiles; a picture of her and her parents, back before her mother died. Another one of her in Paris with a big group of friends, tilting their beers up towards the camera, looking tanned and lazy from the wonders of the city in summertime. She pauses at the last two, her heart stilling in her chest as she takes them in. 

The one is of her, Jax, Opie and Donna, with Jax’s arms wrapped around her from behind as they double over with laughter. Her lips twitch at the memory— he’s never not been important to her, Jax. She knows that. But she also knows that what they had was unhealthy and done with— it had been for a decade. 

Her green eyes then flicker over to the second picture and her eyebrows draw into a slight frown as she stares at it. It’s her, age 25, with her cheek pressed tightly against another male with brown eyes and brown curls that flop down on his forehead and a smile just as bright as hers, if not brighter; Charlie. Charlie, who she dated for four years. Charlie, whose heart she broke. 

Tara stepped away from the picture abruptly and moved away from it, wringing her hands together. _What’s done is done,_ she tells herself, but suddenly she can’t stop the shiver that spreads through her body at the memory of Joshua and she lets out a small gasp that—

* * *

Working at St.Thomas is more fulfilling than she expected, and she wakes up every morning with a purpose and an eagerness to work that she had lost the last few weeks she was still in Chicago. The people there are nice and friendly, and she doesn’t recognise anyone there from her high school years. It makes her kind of sad, really, to realise that she was one of very, very few who managed to escape Charming, if only for a little while. 

She loves the office they gave her on her first day, even though it smells distinctly like coffee and the walls were bare and grey. She hangs up her degrees on the walls and puts two pictures on her desk during her lunch hour. She misses Chicago Presbyterian with an intensity that somewhat surprises her, but she keeps her emotions to herself, keeping her heart far up her sleeve and tucked away in her chest. 

It takes a week of her working at St.Thomas before she finally see’s _him._

She’s doing some paperwork in the receptionists hallway, with her back to the door when she hears a voice come out from behind her. 

“Hey doc, we need some help over here—“

Tara snapped her head to the source of the familiar voice, her heart pounding in her chest as she dropped the pen onto the documents, her bones rattling in her skin as her green eyes met blue. She feels oddly flustered, standing there in front of him and strangely shocked, as though _him_ being in Charming was strange. 

“Oh shit,” one of his biker friends exclaims, glancing between them. 

The spell breaks with those two words, and she glances away from him to see his friend bleeding from a large gash on his arm. _Chibs?_ she questions, or was it Bobby? She couldn’t remember, though their kuttes were still the same. 

“Let’s get you some help,” she said hurriedly, eager to be rid of them and trying to ignore the feeling of  his eyes piercing into her skin. She hurries over to them, and calls out, “I need some help over here—“

Jax moved next to her from where she stood in front of the bleeding biker, assessing his injuries, 

“It looks like you will need stitches,” she told him, her heart hammering at Jax’s closeness, though she kept her face composed, “Though I don’t see any sign of infection—“

Some of the nurses came through the doors at that moment and dragged the bleeding biker away from them. It occurs to Tara that perhaps she should follow but she doesn’t, still too _emotional_ to move. Tara knew that she would see him eventually, but she somehow hadn’t prepared herself for it.

“I heard you were back in town,” Jax told her, the same grin he had ten years ago appearing on his face, “It’s good to see you Tara.”

“I. . .” her voice trails off for a moment before she cleared her throat and murmured back, “It’s nice to see you too Jackson.” She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze and shot him a quick smile before moving past him, her heartbeat loud in her ears and her throat tightening with each passing moment. 

She can’t do this. 

She can’t. 

She’s about to disappear behind the double doors when he calls out after her, “I guess I’ll see you around then.”

Tara stopped in her tracks and turned her head to face him, a contemplative expression appearing on her face as she appraised him, a weak smile playing on her lips. “Is that a question or a statement?” she asked lightly, feeling stronger from the natural routine they had. The casual familiarness they had between them that hadn’t faded away over the years, though it was more awkward and new. 

Jax let out a bright laugh, his blue eyes twinkling as he gazed at her. The warmth within her slowly began to fade as they stared at each other, until the memory of Joshua came creeping back, causing her to stiffen like a piece of wood. 

“Goodbye Jackson,” she uttered, and quickly shuffled behind the doors, leaving him behind her. 

(She ran to the bathroom and threw up afterwards, bile burning her throat as Joshua’s yells echoed in her ears. She can’t do this she can’t do this— )

_seeing him feels like an ending to a possibility that lingered for all the time she was away._

* * *

 

It’s not like she’s suffering from some kind of PTSD. 

She’s not. 

Truly. 

Tara dated ATF Agent Joshua Kohn for about four months before she realised that something was wrong. When she realised that his forgetful nature was merely a facade to find out where she was. To realise that him knocking down a picture frame of her and Charlie and another of her and Jax was not an accident. To realise that she was dating a monster. 

She ended it in person. In the cafe nearby her apartment. She was eager to do it in a public place due to the lesser risk of him exploding at her. 

It hadn’t worked. 

He showed up the next morning banging on her door, screaming at her to open the fucking door, to listen to him god dammit Tar-Tar. 

He managed to get in a few times when she was at work, and waited for her to return. He somehow always managed to do it, regardless of whether or not she changed her locks. Complaining to his superiors resulted in a black eye and a bruised cheek. 

It took her a few weeks to realise that she was pregnant and less then a hour to drive herself to an abortion clinic. He found out and beat the crap out of her neighbour in retaliation. It took 3 trips to separate precincts to get the restraining order that prevented him from coming anywhere near her, or people she cared about. 

The fear didn’t fade however, despite the authorities reassurances— despite her friends reassurances. She constantly lived in a state of jumpiness until she became wary of her own shadow. Until not waking up to her crazy ex-boyfriend pounding on her door at five o’clock in the morning was _strange._

She drove all the way to California because she knew that he would somehow manage to check her flights- where she went, for how long. 

She’s not afraid. 

Not anymore. 

Not here. 

(Her first thought when she wakes up is _he found me._ )

* * *

 

Contrary to Jax’s statement, she doesn’t see much of him, or of SAMCRO either. Whether because it was purely coincidental or because she made some sort of unconscious effort to avoid them at all costs  Tara doesn’t know. But she is grateful. 

The stares are finally starting to die down, and the whispers of her and the prince of charming getting back together slowly begin to evaporate. 

Tara is not sure why the rumours started in the first place, considering that Jax is _married._

She’s packing her groceries when she hears the two cashiers talk loudly behind her, their obnoxious voices making her head spin as she shoves a box of cereal into a shopping bag. 

“And _oh my god_ have you seen the size of Jax Teller’s old lady Wendy? I swear you would think she was carrying two babies instead of one by how big she is—“

Tara momentarily freezes at their words before quickly pulling herself together, keeping her face calm and collected. She can _feel_ their gazes pouring into her back and the sound of their over the top giggles makes her jaw clench. 

_Fuck you,_ she spits in her head and finishes packing her bags. She stops when she notices them staring at her for too long to be considered polite. 

“Can I help you?” she snapped, her green eyes shooting them a dirty look that would make even the toughest of guys shiver. 

“No,” they replied hurriedly, their cheeks flushing red. 

“Thought so,” she replied shortly, stalking out of the grocery store, the straps of the plastic bags digging into her arms. She cursed herself on the drive home for reacting to them— for giving them the satisfaction of thinking she _cared._

She would always care about Jax. Tara would never deny that. Loving Jax— caring about him is in her bones. But his life— who he is with, who he loves and cares about, isn’t her business anymore. It stopped being her business the moment she left town without him. 

And it’s not like she spent the past ten to eleven years mooning over him. 

It took her three years at UC San Diego to finally start dating again. It was the first time it hadn’t felt like cheating, though the relationship only lasted a handful of months, and most of it was spent on study dates and quickies in her boyfriends apartment. It barely meant anything. (She barely remembers the guys name— Michael she thinks it was)

She met Charlie during her first year of medical school, and they became friends within a few minutes of meeting each other. They were completely and utterly different from each other background wise. He was from a posh family in England and had travelled over to the US to go to law school at the University of Chicago. Charlie was quiet and kind and modest, never looking to offend anyone, never trying to show off. They dated for four years. 

And they were happy years. They were. Tara loved being with Charlie. She loved how his brow furrowed when he read a book, and how his hands became animated when he spoke about something he loved. She loved how he tried, how he was so incredibly strong in this quiet, gentle sort of way that was so different from anything she had ever known. 

She loved that they went on road trips across the country together and that they went to disney land for her 25th birthday. But then he finished law school, and she still had a few years left of med school, and he wanted to go home to England and she wanted to stay. They broke up and he went off to England. 

Kohn was the first guy she dated since. 

* * *

It’s on a Thursday when an eight months along pregnant woman is rushed into the hospital with track marks all over her arms. 

Tara remembered moving along with the stretcher and staring down at the unconscious woman below her, a frown sketched on her face, as though she were somehow displeased with something. 

“These marks on her arms look like crank,” she informed the doctor next to her, her eyes wide with urgency, “There was a lot of bleeding before someone found her, we need to do an emergency C-Section, Doctor—“

“Yes right away,” Doctor Padela agreed, his dark brown eyes staring at her worriedly as the nurses dragged the woman off into the emergency surgery section, “Dr. Knowles are you sure you want to be on this case?”

Tara stared at him for a few moments, taken aback, “Of course I would— why wouldn’t I—“

“That woman is Wendy Teller, Dr. Knowles.” He hesitated before continuing, his brown eyes eyeing her with an intensity that bothered her, as though he were accusing her of something, “I am well aware of your. . . _personal involvement_ with the patients husband—“

“While I appreciate your concern for my emotional well-being Dr. Padela, I assure you that I am more than capable of _doing my job._ I am asking you to put me on that baby’s case,” Tara ground out, her green eyes darkening with fierceness that hid the small sliver of emotional turmoil within. She _could_ help— she _would_ help. Even if this was Jax’s wife— his _child._

She _wanted_ to help. 

Dr Padela must have seen the desperation in her eyes because he quickly nodded, allowing her to go prepare herself for the upcoming surgery. 

* * *

“He’s got a congenital heart defect and a tear in his abdomen,” she told Jax, watching expressionlessly as his face contorted with worry— and an underlying anger building inside. Her eyes softened as she stared at him, before clearing her throat and continuing, “The early birth and the tear are from the drugs but the CHD is—“

“The family flaw,” Gemma cut in cooly, her eyes narrowing as she stared at Tara. 

“Yes, it’s genetic,” Tara agreed, her attention returning to Jax. Her heart clenched slightly as she stared at him, before she added, “Either would be serious but not life-threatening however the two of them together. . .” her voice drifted off at the look on Jax’s face before she shoved her emotions away and continued on, “Dr Padela gives him a twenty percent chance and I’m afraid that that’s being optimistic.”

“My god,” Gemma breathed beside Jax, and Tara looked behind them to find Clay and a few other members listening in solemnly. 

“She never wanted to talk to me,” Jax said, as though he was trying to explain himself—trying to explain how this happened, “I didn’t know.”

Tara felt her fists clench as she resisted the familiar urge to reach out and hug him and instead softened her voice and told him gently, “Her OP said that she missed her past few appointments, nobody knew. Dr Padela wants to fix his stomach first and then if he stabilises he’ll try to repair the heart.” A beat. “I’m sorry Jax.” Another moment of silence before she moved towards the door leading to his son, “I can take you to see him now.”

She reaches the door when he calls out to her, “Hey Tara.”

She stops in her tracks and turns around to look at him, watching as he saunters up to her, his blue eyes thankful yet there was a burning rage behind those eyes of his, and she was desperate to try and cool it. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he told her quietly, staring at her intently, “I know you have other patients—“

“I asked Dr. Padela if I could assist,” she blurted out before she could stop herself, “I want to help your son Jax.”

His gaze softened and he gulped before telling her, “Abel. His name is Abel.”

“That’s a nice name,” she offered, a small smile appearing on her lips before it disappeared when he turned around and began to stalk away down the hallway. 

“Jax!” She called out. 

“Jackson,” she heard Gemma utter, but he didn’t stop when he called back, “Go with Tara Ma— there is something I need to do.”

* * *

It scares her really, how quickly they are drawn to each other, like moths to a flame. It starts with the smiles and the touches that linger for too long to be considered friendly. 

She remembered how her skin had flared up at the mere touch of his skin on hers and it scares her— how easily she can sink back into being that girl she was so many years ago. 

(She remembers how familiar that hug had been— how close they had gotten to kissing each other as their foreheads touched and their breaths mingled together before she noticed the blood staining his t-shirt and it reminds her of the reason why they didn’t work all those years ago—)

Tara always thought she had kept that tattoo as a reminder that all that shit was behind her— that’s what she had told Gemma when she had been stupid enough to turn her back to the Queen of Biker’s— but suddenly Tara isn’t so sure. Maybe she kept it to remind herself that she would always have a home back in Charming, that she would always be protected by SAMCRO because of her affiliation— _past_ affiliation with the club. 

After all, the reason she returned to Charming was because it was the only place she had ever felt completely and utterly safe. 

* * *

It takes a grand total of her being back in Charming for a few months before she gets the first phone call. 

Stupidly— unknowingly she answered the phone quickly, and pressed it to her ear, shifting her clip board under her arm. 

“Hello?” she asked, looking through the window to look down at Abel through the window— she had just finished her routine checkup she did with all of her patients still in NICU—  when all of a sudden _his_ voice echoes through her phone, sending a chill throughout her body. 

“Hey, I’m glad I’m not sick because you’re a tough doctor to find—“

With a small, startled gasp she shut the phone and shoved it into her coat pocket, her heart beating relentlessly in her chest as shock thrummed through her, obliterating everything in her wake. 

_He found me he found me he found me—_

She let out a deep breath and sunk down into a nearby chair, her bones rattling against her frame as she buried her head in her hands. Tara didn’t know how long she sat there— years could have passed by without her noticing but eventually she got up and dusted herself off. _Suck it up Tara,_ she told herself, _stop being dramatic._

She bumps into Hale a few times at the hospital over the next few days due to the rape at Fun Town and she can’t help but ask, “If I had a restraining order against someone in another city would it still be valid if I moved someplace else?” 

Tara tried to ignore the inquisitive gleam in his blue eyes as he responded, “It differ’s from city to city but I could look into it if you want.” There was a beat before he questioned her, “May I ask why you’re asking?”

Tara tried to  hide how flustered she was and let out an uncomfortable laugh before she answered, “I dated a guy during my internship at Chicago,” she swallowed uncomfortably and fiddled with her hands, trying not to wince under his stare, “he got a little—“ _violent._ She cleared her throat and continued, “It’s complicated. I’m sure I’m just over exaggerating but I was just curious.”

She gave him a small smile in an effort to convince him, and nearly sagged with relief as he nodded curtly and murmured a goodbye, before walking out of the hospital. _You’re safe Tara,_ she tells herself, touching the back of her neck, _you’re safe. There is no need to be afraid._

(She’s more terrified than she ever was)

* * *

Her cheek burns all day from where he kissed her. Tara felt like she was fifteen all over again, when Jax first started sending her these cocky smirks from across the classroom and kissing her cheek just to see her get all flustered (she rarely ever allowed herself to get flustered around him before they were dating, but she always assumed that he enjoyed the challenge anyway). 

She see Gemma eye’s them disapprovingly out of the corner of her, but her eyes are on Jax’s retreating form and all of a sudden she’s glad that his back is turned so he can’t see her flush slightly. The flush diminishes under Gemma’s gaze, and all of a sudden she’s scared again with the sight of pink rose petals sprinkled all over her cutlass and the weight of the gun in her bag suddenly feels like a ton of bricks and—

“Ready to go home doc?” Gemma asks. 

Tara snaps out of her reverie and nods and handed over her bag to Gemma before talking with the mechanic for a few minutes, discussing the amount of time and the price for the fixing before she hops into Gemma’s car with a lump in her throat as Joshua’s eyes brand themselves against the back of her eyelids and— 

“Why are you carrying?” 

_Damn you Gemma,_ is all she thinks, _mind your own damn business._

It shouldn’t surprise her when Gemma shows up at her house later that day, but the sight of her on her front porch does indeed surprise her. 

Before she can even ask what she’s doing here Gemma pushes past her to stalk into her living room, her eyes instantly fluttering all over the place as she takes note of anything. 

“Can I help you with something Gemma?” she asks tiredly, massaging the space between her brow before she notices Gemma inspecting one of her pictures with visible interest. 

“I don’t know why you’re carrying a gun,” Gemma tells her absentmindedly, reaching into her bag without taking her attention off the picture, “But I brought you another one just to be safe, without serial numbers.” 

Tara takes the gun from her hands with barely concealed hesitance and uncomfortableness, and it’s then that she notices the picture that Gemma is staring at. It’s the one she hung up of her and Charlie. She stiffens suddenly, and places the gun on a nearby table, before folding her arms in front of her chest. 

“Something you find interesting?” she asks stonily, watching Gemma closely. 

“How long did the two of you date?” Gemma replies, gesturing to the picture. 

“None of your business,” Tara shoots back, her jaw tightening. 

Gemma looked at her then, an arched look appearing on her face as her mouth twisted into a scowl. 

“Jax is in a real strange place right now doc,” she tells Tara, the threat in her voice unmistakable, “He doesn’t need any outside voices meddling with his head. You stay clear of him.” 

Tara scowled back at her and snapped, “He’s not nineteen anymore Gemma, you can’t dictate what he does, who he see’s—“

“I am him mother and until I am dead and cold I will do whatever I need to do to protect him,” Gemma snarls, all friendliness gone from her face, “And I know that protecting him from someone who once called Charming an incestuous, suffocating town is in his best interest.”

Tara scoffed at that, her eyebrows rising as she stepped closer to Gemma. 

“Do I really scare you that much Gemma?” 

Gemma scoffed, and yet somehow, she still looked intimidating with her highlighted hair and painted eyelids. 

“You’ve both clearly moved on,” Gemma stated, and sent a meaningful glance at the picture, “No need to rehash something that is long since forgotten.” 

“If it’s long since forgotten why are you threatening me to stay away from your son?” Tara asked, a moment of tense silence passed before she uttered, “I have no intention of rehashing anything Gemma, you have nothing to worry about from me.”

Gemma glanced at her with a look of disdain and stalked past Tara, tossing a goodbye over her shoulder, leaving Tara alone with a gun she may or may not need to use. 

* * *

Tara doesn’t mean to tell Jax about Kohn. 

But somehow the words spill out from her lips and she doesn’t even finish her sentence before he stalks off in Kohn’s direction, knife in hand. And then some. She hears that he puts Kohn through a plate glass window at the barber shop, and she feels strangely unsurprised— as if she knew that he would protect her without any question. She remembers how familiar and easy it felt, riding on the back of his bike the same way they did when they were sixteen and in love. 

And so when he asks her, “Is that why you came back? Because you knew that I would get rid of this guy?” What he really means is _did you return because you knew that I’d still protect you even after you leaving me?_

It takes her a few seconds to reply, and when she does she answers it as truthfully as she can, “I didn’t come back because I knew you’d get rid of him,” she tells him, and she means it. _I came back to Charming because I always felt safe when I was with you and after so many months of being so afraid I needed the one person I knew always made me feel safe, no matter what._ But she doesn’t say that. 

She pulls away from him and murmurs, “That doesn’t sound like you Jax, it sounds like Gemma.”

He doesn’t say anything. 

-

It’s on a Friday that she places Abel in his arms for the first time. 

She carries Abel in her arms gently, a wide smile on her face as she takes in the expression of complete love and wonder on Jax’s face as she carefully hands Abek over to him. Something swells in her chest as she stares at the two of them, and in that moment she forget’s that Gemma is there. The feeling in her chest begins to spread through every fibre of her being, and it should scare her— after Kohn, after everything— how easily he makes her _feel_ and it’s in that moment that she realises that she may or may not be still _in love_ with Jax and suddenly the spell she was under is broken. 

And she can’t breathe all of a sudden and she has to get out of there as fast as she can— 

“I’ll give you some time,” she tells them, and her voice sounds shaken even to her own ears so she sends Jax a quick smile and hurries out of the room, but not before tossing over shoulder, “Your going to be a great father, Jax.”

And so when she see’s him later, when he comes searching for medical supplies, and tells her of how he thought their relationship would go down and says “You’re someone different doc, but me— I’m still the same guy, in the same kutte.” 

And she doesn’t mean to say anything but something propels the words out of her mouth as she calls out after him, “Tonight I saw someone who loved his son—with no fear of letting anyone in or anything. It may be the same kutte, but it’s not the same guy.” And he stares back at her for a moment, and her heart pounds in her chest so loudly the sound echoes in her ears but all he offers her is a small, intimate smile before he’s out the door, leaving her alone. 

(But Kohn is there, watching, listening and—) 

She screams when the gun goes off, making blood splatter against her bedroom wall as Jax puts a bullet through Joshua’s brain. Tara can’t breathe—she can’t think and she’s still too shocked to say anything but she somehow finds herself sitting next to Jax staring down at the dead body next to her bed. 

Is this her fault? 

Should it have been her dead on the floor? 

The questions and the relentless possibilities makes a sob escape her lips and before she knows it Jax is wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her forehead and she doesn’t know who moves first but suddenly her lips are on his— 

They pull away to stare at each other— a similar gleam of confusion in both of their eyes but that doesn’t stop them from doing it again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Until Jax’s clothes are on the floor and her skin is on fire from his touch and then— 

(for the first time in ten years, she feel’s like she’s home)

* * *

It would have been easier to say that what happened next was easy. 

But there were thing’s in their way that weren’t there the first time around. 

Like ex-wives determined to make things right and Jax’s son and a more-than-determined-to-keep-them-apart Gemma and a fucking _dead body_. And it scares her. The amount of obstacles against them scares Tara more than she can express. 

But when Jax asks her after Stahl leaves (after interrogating her about SAMCO) to not go anywhere, she tells him without any hesitation in her voice, “I’m not.” 

And in that moment, she means it. 

But— 

There’s always a _but_ in their story. 

I love you _but_ I can’t stay in Charming. 

I love you _but_ I can’t leave Charming with you. 

I love you _but_ this is goodbye. 

I told you that I was not going anywhere _but_ then your ex-wife came back and my ex-boyfriend— the nice one, the one I loved— came back. 

* * *

It’s on a Tuesday when Charlie show’s up in Charming. 

Tara is scribbling furiously on a file she needs to fill out, her brow furrowing in concentration when Nurse Susie says to her gently, touching her shoulder, "Tara some British guy is here looking for you." Tara frowned at her at her momentarily, before turning back to her paper and finishing it quickly, and handed it over to the expecting intern. 

"Who?" Tara questioned, turning around to give Susie her full attention, folding her arms in front of her chest. Susie shrugged lightly, a nonchalant look on her face, "He was tall, brown haired, said that he knew you-" 

Tara knew only one person who fit that description, and the realisation made her surge forward, her heart in her throat. She pushed through the double doors with Susie on her heels and asked, "Where is he-" 

She caught sight of a male with broad shoulders and brown hair with his back to her, holding a coat in his arms. 

Her heart dropped to her stomach as she halted in her steps, her mouth opening with shock. 

"Charlie?" She gasped, moving forward slowly as he began to turn around. "Oh my god," she breathed, a small laugh escaping her lips as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. "Hey Tara," he whispered into her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her tightly. She buried her head into his shoulder, surprise blooming through her.

“What are you doing here?” she asks eventually, once she manages to pull herself away from him. Charlie’s expression falters for a second, and he eyes the area around them nervously, before asking her quietly, “Hey do you think we could go to your office to talk privately?” 

Tara opened her mouth to question why before she realised. She cast a glance around the hallway and noticed almost everyone staring at them with open-mouthed curiosity and it’s then she remembers that she is Jax Teller’s— girlfriend? Ex-girlfriend? Lover? Tara doesn’t know— girl and she’s hugging another man quite intimately and that the people of Charming never do forget anything. 

“Alright,” she agrees, leading him to her office. 

They’re both silent as they make their way there, and the familiarity between them slowly begins to fade into an awkwardness that Tara doesn’t quite know how to break. She shuts the door behind her when they enter her office, and all is silent for a few moments. 

“Charlie,” she begins, her green eyes fluttering up to meet his brown orbs, “What are you doing here?” 

“In Charming?” he asks her, his mouth twitching. 

“In America?’ she asks incredulously, staring at him intensely, “You said when you moved back to England that you wanted to stay there permanently.” 

A small flicker of sadness appears in his eyes as he retorts, “Would it have made a difference?” 

That stops Tara short, and she can feel herself flush slightly. “No, I guess not,” she murmurs, sighing, before she asks again, “I’m serious Charlie, what are you doing here?” 

A thoughtful expression appears on his face as he drums his fingers against her desk, and answers, “I returned to Chicago a few months ago— on principle I guess. I liked Chicago— after I went back England didn’t feel the same— and then I met up with a few of our old friends and they told me about that ATF agent— don’t cuss them for it Tara, I was the one who asked them— and I planned on calling you, I did but then I didn’t have to.” Tara stares at him in confusion when an strangely amused smile plays on his lips, “I got a call from FBI Agent Stahl to come to Charming to advise them on a RICO case against SAMCRO.” 

Tara feels her heart drop at his words, but annoyance blooms in her stomach as she thinks of the blonde ATF bitch. 

“I remember you mentioning the town Charming, so I did a little bit of research, put two and two together and. . .” he shrugged before adding, “Here I am.” 

“Jesus christ,” Tara murmurs, but before she can say anything else the door opens and Jax comes into the room with a concerned smile on his face, “Hey babe—“ he stops short when he catches sight of Charlie, and his expression almost immediately. “What the hell are you doing here?” Jax snarls at Charlie, and he moves closer to her, as if protecting her from him. 

“You two have met?” Tara asks, her gaze verging on accusing as she stares at Charlie. 

“We met approximately two hours ago when I left the station with Stahl and Hale,” Charlie answered, a blank expression appearing on his face as he glanced at her. Tara shifted next to Jax uncomfortably, and avoided his gaze for a moment. 

“Wait a minute,” Jax said, glancing at Tara as well, “Do you two know each other?” 

Tara nodded and was about to open her mouth when Charlie cut her off, “Yes, we were _old friends_ in Chicago.” 

Tara turned to look at Charlie, a inquisitive expression on her face as she opened her mouth.

“Why don’t you crawl back to whatever tea party you came out of, _mate_ ,” Jax taunted, “And find something better to do with your life other than harass SAMCRO. But then again, she your life flashes before your eyes what do you see? Cup of tea, cup of tea, almost got fucked, cup of tea?” 

“Jax,” Tara hissed, her green eyes wide. 

Charlie shook his head at her protest, and merely moved towards the door before stopping when he reached the doorway. He turned to look at Jax, a taunting expression on his face as he then glanced meaningfully at her. “Oh and when I said that Tara and I are old friends, what I really mean is that we dated for four years.” An insulting smile appeared on his face as he added, “That’s more than the two of your right?” 

Tara was too shell shocked to say anything. 

“Nice seeing you Tara,” Charlie said, before shutting the door on his way out, leaving her alone with Jax. 

Jax. 

Shit. 

“Jax,” Tara says gently, staring at him. 

He doesn’t answer her. Tara stares at his back uncomfortably, a lump in her throat. 

“Jax, please—“

“Did you love him?” he asks abruptly, his blue eyes lacking any emotion as he stares at her, raising a hand to his chin. 

“Sorry?” Tara asked confusedly, her eyes wide, “Jax, what does that have to do with anything—“

“Please just answer the question, Tara.” 

Tara stares at him for a few moments, at a loss for what to do. “I. . .yes,” Tara admitted, reaching for his hand, “I did. But that was years ago Jax, he moved back to England and we broke up—“

“You loved me years ago too,” Jax points out, “Hell, do you love me? It’s a simply question babe.”

Tara crossed her arms in front of her chest as she answered, “It’s not a simple answer.” 

Jax nodded at her bitterly, his jaw tightening with an emotion she could not decipher. “If he hadn’t moved back to England, would you two still be dating?” Jax asks, his gaze boring into her’s so that she couldn’t look away. 

Tara gaped at him and protested incredulously, “Jax that isn’t a fair question—“

“Better yet, Tara, if I had shown up whilst the two of you were dating saying that I was still in love with you would you have chosen me?”

“That is completely unfair,” Tara grounded out, her green eyes blazing, “You are asking me to answer a question to a situation that could never possibly happen—“

“But answer the question anyway Tara—“

“I can’t!” she snapped back, throwing her hands up in the air. “Okay, I can’t answer that, Jax. I loved you— you are the first guy I have ever loved but I loved him too and if you’re expecting me to tell you that I never loved him or that I don’t still _care_ about him I can’t do that.” 

Jax shakes his head at her, and moves for the door. 

“Jax we need to talk about this—“

“Go talk about it with your precious British boy-toy,” he snaps at her, and slams the door on his way out. 

Tara buried her face in her hands, and resisted the urge to cry. 

* * *

She doesn’t talk to Jax for the next two weeks before she bumps into Charlie again. 

She’s getting coffee from the hospital cafeteria when she catches sight of Charlie leaning against a vending machine, holding onto his briefcase in one hand and his coat in the other. Tara stiffens considerably when she see’s him, and she resists the urge to dump her coffee on his head. 

She consider’s trying to move past him unnoticed but he catches sight of her before she can hurry past him. 

“Tara,” he greets, his smile fading when she doesn’t smile back. 

“Charlie,” she returns cooly, taking a sip of her coffee. 

“I’m sorry about the other day, Tara,” Charlie says, his eyes gentle, “I. . . I shouldn’t have done what I did and used—“

“I appreciate your apology, Charlie,” Tara says tiredly, and tries to move past him, “But I’m just really tired right now—“

“I get that,” Charlie says, reaching for shoulder and grasping onto it gently, and Tara can’t find it in her to move away; his touch was warm and familiar. “Listen,” he says, clearing his throat and searched through his jacket pocket to pull out a piece of paper before handing it to her. 

“That’s my number, Tara. If you need anything, or just want to chat or go out for beer just call me.” He smiles at her gently, and retracts his hand, and suddenly his face flushes with embarrassment as he shyly utters, “I missed you.” He walks away before she can say anything, and Tara stands there with a bewildered expression on her face and a crumpled piece of paper in her hand and her heart pounding loudly in her chest. 

_Get your emotions in check Knowles._

* * *

Tara sat in her living room hours later, and she can feel her mind slowing began to fall deeper into the rabbit hole as the sound of a gun going off rings in her ears. 

_Breathe Tara,_ she thinks, running a hand through her hair, _just fucking breathe Tara and don’t think about it._ Her hands begin to shake and before she can stop herself she finds herself calling his number and the moment he answers she whispers shakily, “Can you come over?” 

He arrives at her door ten minutes later juggling two coffee cups and a bag of chances takeout. 

“Hey,” Tara says gently, smiling at him thankfully. 

“Hey,” Charlie returned, moving into the house. Tara took the food from him and thanked him softly, and moved into the kitchen to grab them some plates. 

“You have a beautiful home,” Charlie told her, following her into the kitchen. Tara chuckled at his words and shot him a look, grabbing a hold of her coffee. “Yeah right,” she snorted, before adding, “My dad was a bit of a packrat, I still find a lot of his stuff everywhere.” 

Charlie let out an amused sound, but didn’t add on to anything further. There was an awkward pause before he cleared his throat and asked, “Tara, why did you call me here?” 

She placed two plates on the countertop gently, and pondered briefly how to answer that. 

“I—I was losing my mind, staying in here and I needed a friend,” Tara admits, biting down on her lower lip as she stares at him, a nervous expression on her face. 

“Friend?” Charlie questions, a contemplative look on his face as he moved to lean against the island. 

“I’d like for you to be,” Tara admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Me too,” Charlie agreed, a small smile lighting up his face. Tara smiled back at him, but before she could say anything he quickly changed the subject. “I was surprised when I discovered Chinese takeout in Charming— there isn’t even a Starbucks around here.” 

Tara laughed and shook her head at him, smiling. 

It took a few hours, a couple glasses of wine after they finished their coffee, and a few servings of food before Charlie finally broke. 

“Tara, about Kohn. . .” his voice drifted off as she didn’t meet his gaze. She felt shaken and disturbed at his question, and unsure of what to do with herself. 

“What about him?” she asked testily, trying to banish the thought of his dead, cold body on her bedroom floor from her mind. 

“Tara, what happened—“ 

“He’s gone,” she said, swiping at her eyes, as some emotion she couldn’t control began to climb up her throat. 

“Hey,” Charlie whispered, moving to sit next to her as she began to sob quietly, and wrapped his arms around her. Tara buried her face in his chest as she began to cry and she hated herself for it. Tara hated herself for being so bloody _weak_ and crying all the damn time. 

“Oh god I’m sorry,” Tara said, trying to pull herself away, “I’m being stupid—“

“No you’re not,” Charlie said fiercely, pulling back to stare into her eyes, “Tara, you are the strongest, most intelligent woman I’ve ever met. Don’t you _dare_ call yourself stupid.” 

A sob escaped her throat, and suddenly Tara felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her eyes widened as she stared at him, and her shoulder’s began to shake as she struggled to breathe. “Tara you have to breathe,” Charlie pleaded, his eyes filled with desperation. Tara shook her head and clutched at her throat because _damn it she couldn’t fucking breathe—_

Her eyes flew open at the feeling of Charlie’s lips pressing to her’s. She sat there, frozen with shock as his lips sat there,and didn’t move. Her heartbeat slowly began to return to normal as she sat there, and she began to feel calmer and less panicked. Tara began to pull away slowly, her eyes wide with wonder as she raised a hand to her lips. 

“What was that?” Tara whispered, her green eyes filled with a soft confusion. 

“I—I read somewhere that you can prevent a panic attack by holding your breath,” Charlie told her, though he didn’t look at her, “And when we were together, when we kissed, you used to hold your breath and i know that this is short notice but Tara I’m not an idiot—I’m not staying here in Charming for the rest of my life, I’m leaving for Chicago in a week and I’m still in love with you and I think we can do this this time around. I think we can make it work and I don’t want to pressure you or anything but I just had to say it because I came back not only because England didn’t feel like home anymore but for you as well.” 

“Oh,” Tara said softly, “I think I need to be alone—“

“Tara—“

“I’m so sorry Charlie, but I can’t—“ Tara shook her head, and ran a hand through her hair, “I can’t do this right now—“ 

“Okay,” he said calmly, and stood up, “I know I should have unloaded this in smaller doses but. . .”

She kissed him on the cheek when he left, and murmured a thank you into his ear.

* * *

 

She needs to see Jax. 

Tara has to. 

She stares at her phone for hours before she goes to the hospital, and yet she never finds the courage to pick up the phone. And so she goes to the hospital, and when she isn’t busy she hangs around near Abel’s room but she doesn’t see Jax. 

She does however, see Gemma _and_ Wendy. 

Together. 

Talking. 

Like they were friends. 

She stands there in the middle of the hallway, and tries to hide her shock. Wendy doesn’t see her as she slips back into Abel’s room, but Gemma see’s her standing there, looking shocked, and smirks at the look on her face. 

Gemma moves towards her and murmurs, “They’re a family now, sweetheart. Whatever you and Jax had, is long gone. You should let it go— I know he has.” And then she gestured towards the window, and Tara found herself moving towards it, and caught view of Jax and Wendy standing over Abel, gentle smiles on either of their faces as they stared at each other, holding hands affectionately. Tara can feel the colour leave her face as she takes the scene in, and her heart drops to her stomach as she struggles to keep her emotions off her face. 

“You should go back to your English boyfriend and get the hell out of Charming.” 

For once, Tara doesn’t have a snappy reply for Gemma’s bait, and she quickly hurries away from the happy family, her eyes burning all the while. 

* * *

Charlie shows up at her office the next day, and before she can stop herself she runs to him and hugs him tightly before pressing a gentle kiss on his mouth. “I think we can make this work too,” She tells him pulling back, pressing her forehead against his and Charlie beams at her and she can’t help but beam back, even if her heart is still slightly broken in her chest. 

She doesn’t notice the heartbroken blue eyes watching them from across the hallway. 

* * *

 

Tara stops in her footsteps when she sees Jax waiting for her after a surgery. 

(She heard about Donna this morning from a few nurses that commute from Charming and a chill runs in her veins as she thinks that that could be her if she stayed)

“Excuse me,” she says to the nurses numbly, and walks over to him, a nervous feeling fluttering in her stomach. 

“Hey,” she said softly, grabbing his attention. 

“Hey,” he returned, reaching out to touch her shoulder, “Listen I’m sorry about—“

“Don’t,” Tara said, cutting him off and all she can think is _I’m leaving town with Charlie, I’m sorry but I can’t do this_ , “I think we should probably talk about—“

“Yeah,” Jax agreed, a gentle expression in his blue eyes. 

Tara led him to an empty waiting room, and sat down in the chair across from him. 

“I’m sorry too,” she told him, her green eyes pouring into his blue ones. “I heard about Donna, I’m so sorry.” 

“Thanks,” Jax murmured, “I appreciate that. Look about what happened, it’s okay—“

“No it’s not okay,” Tara snapped, wiping a hand over her face as she looked at him. A broken laugh escaped her throat as she stared, “None of this is okay, Jax. You know, I tried to follow your lead after what happened—I—I tried to put everything I was feeling into this compartment and then when Charlie came to Charming and I saw you with Wendy a few days ago with Abel, something in me just. . . didn’t feel right, ” She leaned forward towards him and lowered her voice, “I mean, we got away with murder, what does that make me?” 

“A survivor,” Jax told her, his blue eyes so incredibly gentle. Tara’s heart squeezed as she looked at him, and she hated herself for saying what she was about to say next, but she knew she had to. She had already made her choice. And so she leaned forward and grabbed a hold of his hand, and pressed a gentle kiss to it. 

“I think that you’re a good man, with a big heart. I think that you try to do as much good as you can but—but you live a life that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand. I—I called Chicago Presbyterian yesterday, and they said that they’ll take me back and I think it’s the best choice—“

She was cut off by Jax ripping his hand away from her’s. She jumped, startled at his sudden and violent movement. 

“Don’t you get tired of it?” Jax asked her, his blue eyes blazing passionately, “Running?” 

“I’m not running Jax—I’m just— being realistic!”

“Call it whatever you want,” he shot back at her, leaping out of the chair to stand over her. “Your life is a series of hit and runs. The _minute_ someone makes you uncomfortable—tests your loyalty, little Tara packs her bags and hits the road. Ah, I guess you got what you wanted from me right? Used me to do your dirty work so you can now run into the sunset with your precious British boy-toy?” 

She gaped at him for a moment and stood, before protesting loudly, “That’s not fair—“ 

“Not fair?” He asked, his voice rising, “Do you wanna know how many women I’ve slept with over the past ten years?” 

“—Don’t do this—“ 

“Hundreds!” He yelled, cutting her off. “ Maybe more I don’t know. I barely see their faces. I married Wendy because I was lonely—because I was tired of the endless disconnect. It was just a sad timeout.  Because when I’m inside someone, there is only one face I see.” 

Tara stared at him silently, not knowing what to say. 

His voice was gentler when he spoke next, “When you came home, it was like some kind of sign to me. Like my past coming around to give me another chance to do this differently—better. And now that chance is running off to Chicago.” He shook his head at her, and looked away as Tara looked at him—incapable of forming words. Jax looked at her once more, his eyes flickering down to her lips before he leaned forward and crushed his lips to hers in a brutal kiss. 

Tara let him kiss her, a sob rising her throat as she realised—

He stepped away from her and muttered, “Take care, Doc,” before stalking away angrily— but not before taking her heart with him. 

Tara calls Charlie later that night, and he arrives within 15 minutes of her ending the call. 

She sits with Charlie out on her driveway, her palms sweaty and her heart heavy in her chest as it beats slowly, like one of those war drums going _doom boom doom boom._ She looks at him and simply takes him in for a few long, painfully silent moments. Tara takes notice of the almost unnoticeable gold flecks in his brown orbs, and the curve of his mouth, and the way his curls flopped down on his forehead. Her heart squeezed in her chest as she did so, and tears pricked at her eyes as she gazed at him. 

“You’re staying aren’t you?” he asks her quietly, after a few more minutes of silence. His shoulders are tense as he determinedly stares straight ahead, not looking at her. Tara let out a sigh at his words, and swallowed back a strangled sob that threatened to leave her lips. 

“I love you Charlie,” she tells him, her voice gentle. Her gaze drifts down to the ground, but she can feel his gaze flicker to her face. “I’ve always loved you. You, uh, you—“ her voice breaks off as her lower lip begins to tremble, but she sticks her head up determinedly, swiping at her eyes as she stares right back at him, a pleading look in her eye as she begs him to understand. “You are perhaps the best person I’ve ever met Charlie,” she confessed quietly, her eyes meeting his brown orbs with a gentleness that only he could bring out of her, “I love how you care about everyone around you, and how you love and protect those closest to you. I love being with you, Charlie. And I don’t just mean being your girlfriend, I mean having you in my life, because you make it so much happier,” a small smile appeared on her lips, “so much brighter. And I love how being with you makes me feel like— like I’m constantly on this adventure, searching and searching the world and exploring it and making a new life for myself.” 

There was a moment of silence before he spoke, “I suspect that there is a but following that.” 

A haggard, broken laugh escaped her lips as she studied him, and she reached for his hand and grasped onto it tightly, and pressed it against her lips. 

“You were different from everything that I had ever known,” she told him, holding onto his hand like she never wanted to let go of it, “And I—I loved you— I _love_ you for it— it’s _why_ I fell in love with you in the first place but—but loving Jax is in my bones—“ her voice broke as she gestured towards herself with her free hand, a tear escaping her eye as she looked at him. “I don’t know _how_ to stop loving him, and if I knew how to stop, I would. I would stop immediately Charlie, and I would leave here with you, and be your wife and have your children and I would never, _ever_ regret it because if there is anyone who could make me want to leave Jax it’s you. But there isn’t a way for me to stop loving him. I tried for over ten years and I—I couldn’t. I love you Charlie, and a part of my heart will always belong to you— the same way I know a part of your heart will always belong to me too. But I gave my heart—the whole of it— to someone else a very long time ago, and you deserve someone who can give you all of their heart Charlie, the same way you want to give your’s to me.”

“You already have it Tara,” he whispered, his eyes shining with emotion as he stared at her, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” she replied instantly, “and I will always, always love you, but—“

“But you’ll always be _in love_ with him,” he said bitterly, and retracted his hand from her grip, exhaling loudly. Tara swiped at her eyes and moved closer to him, before leaning her head against his shoulder. They sat there for hours, the silence saying what words would fail to express but it felt like seconds when Charlie finally pulled away from her. 

She missed the warmth of him already, but she knew she had no right to ask him to stay a little longer. 

“Bye Tara,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before pulling away. 

“Bye Charlie,” she whispered back as his car pulled out of her driveway. 

She waited until his car left before she started to sob. 

* * *

Tara doesn’t see Jax for a week after Charlie leaves town. 

She goes to work, sleeps, showers, eats and does the motions all over again. She feels like some sort of machine, all empty and lifeless as she notices the black rings around her eyes. All she can see is Charlie’s face and all she can feel is her heart breaking in her chest but she never once questions whether or not she made the right choice letting Charlie go. 

Tara knows she did, the same way she knows the back of her own hand. 

And so she waits for Jax, waits for him to show up and then—

She see’s him waiting for her outside the hospital, walking around his bike impatiently, waiting for her to show. 

Her heart slows as she walks towards him, and a smile begins to grow on her lips as she waits for him to notice her. 

Their eyes meet and—

_it feels like a new beginning._


End file.
